Thicker Than Water
by Katie Havok
Summary: She mops her face and eyes before exhaling roughly, her shoulders slumping. "Won't Tina be upset that you're out here?" Leta asks after a time. He looks up at the tired sound of her voice, his sodden handkerchief crumpled in her hand. Newt and Leta share revelations during a quiet moment.


This fic takes place in a purely imaginary, post-CoG universe in which Leta survives the events of Paris and goes on to marry Theseus because damn it, _Leta Lestrange deserved better._ So did the rest of 'em. I may attempt more fics in this universe down the road, but I'm making no promises.

Warnings: none, just an unrepentant amount of fluff and a bit of angst.

* * *

Newt finds her sitting on the edge of the fountain, bathed in moonlight as she stares pensively into the calm waters. He hesitates a moment to drink in the sight of her, marveling again at the distinct lack of pain she inspires — wondering if he truly _has _matured beyond the horrors of his past — before striding forward, taking care to make as much noise as possible.

"I thought I'd find you out here," he says genially, settling on the stone ledge a polite distance away before taking a sip of his rum.

Leta turns to him, and her tears shine silver in the moonlight, bejeweling her cheeks. "What do you care?" she asks harshly, the depth of pain in her voice making his heart clench. She scrubs at her face self-consciously, and he lowers his head while scooting closer, setting aside his glass to twist his fingers together.

"You're family now," he says quietly, "and with Theseus gone off to the war, I can't help _but _care." He waits a moment, weighing his words before volunteering gently, "He asked me to look after you, you know. I'm sorry I've done such a poor job of it."

She laughs bitterly before nodding. "Yeah, you've sure cocked it up," she says in a watery voice, and even Newt is clever enough to know that her frustration isn't directed at him. She sniffles, and he fishes in his many pockets for a clean handkerchief before offering one to her, careful not to make eye contact when she reaches out to take it.

She mops her face and eyes before exhaling roughly, her shoulders slumping. "Won't Tina be upset that you're out here?" Leta asks after a time. He looks up at the tired sound of her voice, his sodden handkerchief crumpled in her hand.

Newt hesitates, weighing his words and wondering just how much is appropriate to divulge before settling on a simple, "We've reached...an understanding."

Leta looks up at him sharply, and he watches from his peripheral vision as a slow, genuine smile spreads across her face. "I don't need details," she says softly, "but I'm genuinely glad for you both, Newt. You deserve her, and she deserves happiness. I know you can give it to her."

"I'll try my best," he says helplessly and closes his eyes when the sense-memory of Tina's voice, Tina's fingers, Tina's wonderfully bare skin visits him, making him shiver. He clears his throat before manfully pushing the image away, only to blush when Leta's knowing smirk tells him that his thoughts were clearly visible on his face.

"Enough about me," he says briskly, recoiling a little when she blinks at his abrupt tone. "Why are you out here all alone, Leta? What's _happened _?"

Leta swallows loudly, her eyes falling to her lap as her trembling fingers toy with the satin edge of her sleeve. "I've just discovered that I'm expecting," she admits shortly, and Newt turns to her in wonder, his mouth falling open. "I'm going to have a baby and right now, I don't even know if my husband is alive. I don't know if this is something he would have wanted. I don't...I—" Her voice breaks, and she ducks her head when she begins to cry in earnest, her tired sobs snatched away by the brisk autumn wind.

Newt releases a shaky breath before moving to her. He slides an arm around her shoulders, operating purely on instinct, and she turns to him with painful eagerness, clutching the lapels of his suit jacket and hiding her face in his chest as she sobs. He endures her proximity with unwavering patience, holding her close and making low, soothing sounds, essentially treating her as any other creature in pain until her sobs taper off to broken hiccups and she shrugs him off to regain her soggy dignity.

He casts around for something to dispel the sudden awkward tension before offering his half-empty glass with a weak, "Would you like a drink?"

Leta laughs before plucking it from his fingers. She swallows half the glass in a single practiced stroke, only to gasp and press her wrist to her nostrils. "Merlin's saggy underpants," she splutters, "how on earth can anyone in their right mind _drink _this?!"

Newt takes the drink from her before shrugging and polishing it off. "It _is _a bit of an acquired taste," he grants, and looks into the empty glass pensively before adding in a whisper, "It's Tina's favorite."

To his surprise, Leta laughs heartily before nudging him with her shoulder. "Your woman is more of a man's man than you are — why am I not surprised?" she asks before affectionately tousling his hair. He grimaces and smoothes it down, shooting her a dirty look when she falls silent, shadows drawing themselves over her face.

"What am I going to do?" she asks.

Her broken voice instantly transports Newt back to Hogwarts. He can't take _this _burden from her, however, no matter how much he might wish otherwise, so he sighs heavily before reaching for her hand, carefully cradling it within his own.

"You'll endure," he says firmly, making pointed eye contact when she sniffles. "You'll get through this, you'll survive, and Theseus will come home to a wonderful surprise." He takes a deep breath before continuing, softer but no less sincere, "I _know _you can handle the challenges of your new reality, and I think you do too."

Leta smiles weakly. "You're going to make a great father someday," she says in a whisper. Newt goes still at that, the thought truly having never crossed his mind until now, only to shake himself when she goes on. "For now, though, you'll make a wonderful uncle. I can't wait for my child to meet you, because...because I know they'll love you, too."

Her soft admission is the closest he's ever received to a love declaration from her, and his eyes sting tellingly when he clears his throat before nodding. "We are here for you," he says confidently. "Me, Jacob, Bunty — even Tina. _Especially _Tina; I think she'll be delighted with this news, I really do."

"I hope so," Leta says softly, only to smirk when familiar mischief twinkles in her eyes. "You know, unless I miss my guess, I may not be the only woman in this family who's been _blessed_. Maybe you and Tina will form a more permanent attachment before you know it…"

Newt shakes his head, unwilling to examine the sudden clench of emotions in the pit of his stomach. "No more rum for you," he says firmly, only to smile when she laughs joyously before standing.

"Come on, Newt," Leta says while extending a hand. "Will you join me? I have to tell the rest of them and I...I could use the support. I'm not sure how they'll react."

He stands, ignoring her hand to gallantly offer his elbow. "Everyone'll be delighted," he promises and starts them toward the house, only to pause when they reach the flagstone path. "Do you — do you really think Tina could be...you know?"

Leta arches an eyebrow before smirking. "He who dances must pay the fiddler," she says cryptically, only to shrug. "If you aren't ready for that yet, Newt, you know there are ways to prevent it. Just...be smart. Don't get caught up in the moment as we did." Her face falls for a moment, and she says quietly, "Don't be like me," before rallying and pasting on a weak smile.

Newt hesitates a moment before kissing her temple. "It may be too late for that," he says honestly and manages a small nod before squeezing her hand. "But if that's the case, well...at least you and Tina can take this journey together."

"We'd be proper sisters then," Leta says with unmistakable longing before pinning him with a fierce gaze. "As soon as she makes an honest man of you, at least."

He gulps, his nerves faltering. "Let's take it one step at a time," he manages, and Leta's laughter fills the garden when she throws him a typical devil-may-care grin before squeezing his arm, leaving him with plenty to think about as they make the long walk back to the manor.

* * *

Thanks, as always, to Kemara for beta-reading, advice and encouragement. Find me on Tumblr at KatieHavok, if that's your thing.


End file.
